Hidden Behind Masks
by Malind
Summary: Tseng provides an unwelcome intrusion to Rufus' solitude. Takes place before Advent Children. Tags: Angst, Refusal to Eat, Planet Scar Syndrome Geostigma, Friendship/Love, Depression
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Final Fantasy VII universe and characters are owned by Square Enix. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

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It was impending death. A sapping of the soul that had no cure. But in its own way, it was beautiful, like leaking watercolor forming swirls and blotches on translucent paper. Laying on the plush bed, his head hanging down over the side, Rufus rotated his hand near his face, catching the evening sunlight which reddened his pale skin. Every angle of light brought to the surface new stains of color. His head, however, that was red solely from hanging off the side of the bed for a good half an hour.

Footsteps grew steadily louder as they came up to the outside of his bedroom door. They were the first chain of sounds Rufus had heard for quite a while, outside of his own steady, pounding heartbeat and the occasional rustling of sheets as his limbs shifted.

A knock pierced the air. The former president cringed at the sharpness. Surely it was a supper announcement. The time was right. But he had no appetite, hadn't had one for days, not since the markings first appeared.

To ward off the intrusion, Rufus growled, "I'm good, thank you."

After a pause, a soft, yet stern voice said, "Sir, I've come to give you my report."

Rufus blinked at the door as his heart sped up. That particular voice brought out the same tension it always did and for so many reasons. "All right... Come in."

The door opened, and Tseng stepped inside and reclosed it, shutting out the outside world behind him. Dark eyes took in the whole of the former president in one sweep:

Still lying down on the bed, Rufus' sleeveless undershirt, partially tucked in, exposed a good portion of his taut stomach with his arms bent and hands tucked behind his head. His white formal pants edged low on his hips, undone and showing his crisp white briefs, both articles of clothing still on after collapsing onto the bed when the undressing had taken too long. His shoes, socks, black shirt, vest, undercoat, and coat were all tossed carelessly on the floor.

Tseng had seen him in far worse states over the years, so Rufus didn't bother composing himself. At the Turk's cool gaze and advancing steps, Rufus took to observing his own hand again, but then sucked in a breath when Tseng took it in his own hand by Rufus' fingertips, examining it for himself.

"I'll call the doctor," Tseng stated, "It's getting worse."

The younger man snatched his hand away, rubbing at it, trying to get the tingling sensation Tseng had created to go away. "I'm quite all right. Just give me your report."

Apparently intent on ignoring him, Tseng added, "And they've told me you're not eating."

Those were not the words the Rufus wanted to hear. He hated concern in his direction. He especially hated it from Tseng, because that meant the man was going to do something about it, whether Rufus wanted him to or not. And that was probably why someone had said something to the Turk.

Rufus tried his best to glare, but couldn't really manage it since, well, seeing Tseng upside down was getting a bit... overwhelming. Especially with the man so close. It didn't help at all that Rufus' most convenient view was more or less the Turk's suited crotch.

The blond man gripped the bedspread and pulled himself up, and then supported his torso with his bent elbows on his legs. His head swam with sudden loss of blood from sitting up, his head lulling. He tried to cringe it away which only helped minimally.

And through the ex-president's troubles, as always, well, more or less always, Tseng stayed a quiet presence behind him. Although, what could the Turk really do to help him?

But, seriously, did Tseng really have to be so close to him? And out of his sight by standing behind him?

As Tseng had done so many time before, his presence set off Rufus' nerves just by being there, let alone hovering over him like a demon waiting for blood. The Turk set off Rufus' nerves without even trying.

But the blond man did know why Tseng was standing in his bedroom at that moment with unwelcome determination: Someone had snitched on him, someone who had a pink slip coming to them. And somehow Rufus needed to get this Turk off of his back so he could get back to more important things, like dying.

After a moment of internal bickering, Rufus' mind settled on the obvious diversion laced with lies, spouting off, "I have been eating." Eating crumbs, at least. "And I'm fine. Besides, the doctors don't even know what I have. And they've tried everything. I'm so fucking tired of the needles and drugs. All of that crap doesn't doesn't do a thing, except for make me feel sicker." Rufus turned his torso and head and glared at the Turk, adding, "About the only thing they haven't tried is kissing the damn thing away. But my mother is dead, so..."

Rufus trailed off when he realized what he was saying. But, even then, the Turk still wasn't reacting.

The former president scowled at the man and then swung out his blemished hand. "Well, here, since you apparently feel the need to something about it." He huffed dryly, before adding, "You're about the closest thing I have to a mother anyway."

Then Tseng actually made to take the hand! Rufus snatched it right back, wide-eyed, pressing its palm to his chest. The Turk dropped his own arm back to his side, still looking at the blond man's hand.

"Are you crazy?!" Rufus blurted out, "I was kidding! You could get..." He didn't want to say it. Didn't even want to consider it. The last thing he wanted was for this man to get sick as well. And if Tseng died...

"It hasn't been proven to be contagious."

Rufus shook his head, fisting his hand, before dropping it to his lap, his gaze dropping to the bed because the man's level stare was too much to bear. "So they say, but I won't take that risk. I need you." He almost left it at that, but then realized how it might have sounded, even if it was so close to the truth, and added, "I need all of you to perform your duties."

"Of course."

Wait a minute...

Blue eyes searched his employee's face. "Were you..." An unwelcome heat filled Rufus' belly. "Were you actually going to kiss my hand?"

Something flickered across those dark eyes before Tseng closed them and his lips formed a tight line. Rufus could only consider it a withdrawal from a situation the Turk didn't want to be in or, perhaps, face.

The blond man's breath deepened as uneasiness took hold when Tseng refused to look at him. He'd obviously pushed this too far and in a direction he definitely hadn't intended to. "Tseng... Your livelihood may come from my bank account, but your duties have no clause about my bed. You know this, correct? I'd never..."

Rufus, the former conspirator, president, and more-or-less dictator, was many things, had done too many despicable things over the years, but he'd never taken an unwilling lover out of the handful he'd had. And after all the Tseng's years as his and his father's employee, the Turk had to know this.

Of course... With Rufus' current undressed state, which was definitely not the first offense, the Turk might have gotten the wrong idea. And there were other things Rufus had done... Perhaps he was too loose with this man.

The former president pressed his lips together.

But... He didn't want to stop. If he was honest with himself, after so many years, this man was, well, about the closest thing he had to a friend. And, being this... close, in some absurd way, with his employee... The idea of stopping that 'closeness' made something in Rufus threaten to break.

Tseng stated as evenly as ever, "I understand, sir. I apologize."

The responsive glare was instant. "You apologize?" His neck cramping up, Rufus finally pushed himself around so that he was facing the other man full-on, sitting cross-legged. "You apologize for what exactly? My sexual harassment of you?"

At the words, Tseng finally latched his cold, hard expression on Rufus' face alone. The look took Rufus' breath away because it wasn't just cold and hard. He'd seen cold and hard many, many times before. Rather, underneath it, there was something else. Something that spoke to the instinctual part of him.

"That was hardly sexual harassment."

Blond brows rose before they furrowed as his curiosity overtook him. His hands slipped behind him and took his weight as he leaned back, getting comfortable for the long haul. "And what is exactly sexual harassment?"

Dark eyes looked him over again, every part of him: His loose undershirt that hung on his wide shoulders; His open pants, revealing his briefs. His otherwise bare skin, including his bare feet which hardly a soul had ever seen. Rufus' pulse only picked up with every second the man spent examining him.

Finally, the raven-haired man said, "This... might be considered sexual harassment. But to sexually harass, you must have some intent." Their eyes met again, and for once, the other man's face wasn't blank. His face seemed... Rufus wasn't sure he wanted to put a name to it, was sure he'd be wrong. "Is it your intent to harass me?"

The younger man swallowed and tried to steady his breaths as Tseng's look did unwelcome things to his body, mostly to the middle section of his body. For once in his entire life, Rufus wished he was a mind reader so that he could understand this man's intentions. "No, that's not my intent."

His employee's lips curled up a bit. "Then we don't have a problem."

"And if it was my intention?" Rufus didn't know why he'd said it, didn't even think about the words before they jumped out of his mouth. But now it was too late to take them back. Perhaps some part of him wanted the answer more than he was willing to admit.

"If it was..." The other man's intense eyes watched him for several unnerving breaths. "Then I'd have to do something about it."

Rufus was breathless, but somehow he managed, "Like what?"

They stared at one another for far too many seconds. Rufus could hardly keep his composure, his weakened body begging for action he wasn't well enough to participate in, not with his refusal to eat anything more than nibbles when the pains of his stomach grew too great. The Turk took a step forward but then seemed to catch himself. Perhaps he saw what Rufus' body lived: a slow, impending death.

The idea was confirmed when Tseng stated, "I'm going to get you something to eat, and you are going to eat it."

The words stiffened Rufus' body, this time as a whole. His eyes narrowed. "That's not your decision to make, Turk."

Tseng's own body took the idea of stiffness to a whole new level. His teeth ground together. His hands clenched. Rufus wondered for the first time since he'd met him if the man was actually going to snap. And why? Because he wasn't going to eat? What did it matter to this man if he did or didn't? Well, outside of the possible loss of a paycheck...

Finally, the Turk growled, "Don't be a stubborn child, Rufus. Your age is no longer an excuse."

The words flamed up an instant revolt, including, 'How dare he?!' As such, it took a moment, but Rufus finally picked one word out in particular that Tseng had said:

That was the first time Rufus had ever heard the Turk use just his first name. To Tseng, Rufus' name was always 'Sir' or 'Mr. Shinra' when the younger man's father had died. Or something similarly formal. Never 'Rufus,' not even when the president's son was a teenager.

Confused, angered, done with the conversation as a whole because he was just too damn tired and weak to deal with it mentally or physically, Rufus tried to get up off of the bed to distance himself because Tseng obviously wasn't leaving quite yet. The moment he stood up, the Turk's hands gripped Rufus' upper arms, trying to drag him back downwards.

"Stay in bed."

Rufus shoved at the man's chest, which did little more than pull him along a bit of distance with the man's grip on him. Hands still at the suited chest, the younger man blurted out, "Let me go! You have no right to touch me, Turk!"

Tseng shook him just enough to get his teeth rattling, Rufus' pants dropping even more and barely holding on. It was obvious with the tension in the shake that Tseng wanted to do much more. "Do you have absolutely no understanding of what's good for you? You've always been like this: Stubborn, spoiled, always thinking you know better, not afraid to put your power where it doesn't belong. I know it's your privileged upbringing. I understand that. But you need to grow up!"

The blond man didn't know what shocked him more: the man's words or the fact that the Turk's voice was raised, damn-well near shouting. Everything said so bluntly, Rufus didn't even know how he wanted to start responding. So he stood there, overwhelmed, dumbfounded, slightly slack-jawed.

Then, unnerving him all the more, one of the hands at his arms released its grip, lifted, and lightly touched his cheek. Dark eyes followed what Rufus could only describe as a caress on his reddening skin. In the raven-haired man's face, he saw so much worry and...

Oh-so-quietly, Tseng said, "I don't want you to die."

Rufus pressed his lips together, not ready to speak. He knew he wouldn't be able to trust his mouth if he tried. He wanted to say far too many things, both good and bad. When the hand finally cupped his cheek, his mouth betrayed him with only, "Tseng..."

The Turk met his eyes. And in them, Rufus saw love, or at least something damn close.

"I'm getting you something to eat."

And then the man's heat was gone, stalking out the door, leaving Rufus to wonder how he hadn't noticed how cold the room was.


	2. Chapter 2

Hunched on the bed, his pants finally buttoned back up, long fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his undershirt, Rufus stared at the lock on the door. It would be so simple to keep Tseng out. Yes, the Turk could have picked it, or, hell, just kicked his way through, if Tseng was truly determined to get his way and force food down his employer's throat. But Rufus doubted that was the case, that the older man would resort to such extreme measures to, well, 'care' for him.

The idea of being 'cared' for tightened Rufus' stomach, swimming it with nausea, and he didn't know exactly why. His past few lovers had tried to 'care' for him, and, with Rufus growing inadvertently disgusted as a result, they had never lasted more than a week or two after that.

Rufus wasn't blind or stupid though. He knew the average person wasn't like the way he was, resistant to any closeness beyond lust. But he also couldn't control the urge to drive everyone away since it always felt better, right when he did it.

Except for his staff. Those people he couldn't drive away without proper reasons, those people who served him day after day without fail. Getting served, that he could handle with no problem. It helped that he'd been waited on ever since he was a baby. But serving him, receiving exact orders for the nature of that service, was a far cry from 'caring' for him.

No, they didn't 'care' about him, and that was why they were keeping their jobs that day. Even at that moment, while he burned with hate for the whole lot of his staff, he couldn't blame them for bringing Tseng into this. Because, in the end, it was simple economics. His employees were bound to be concerned, talk, and eventually act when their own livelihoods were at risk. He understood that. More than enough people lived in his household and knew him and his perfections and imperfections far too well after years of service. And they were paid, every last one of them, to pay attention to his every whim.

There were few people in the world who would fight for Rufus Shinra's life, and all of them were under his roof... Or kicked to the street, those ones who couldn't understand boundaries and rules.

None of that reasoning could explain Tseng at that moment though. And right then, Rufus considered firing the Turk, just to still the tension in his own body. It wasn't the first time he'd played with the idea, but this was the first time the thought was serious.

But, no, he couldn't fire him. Not only did he need Tseng to perform his duties, but Rufus also knew this, all of this, was his own fault. He couldn't blame Tseng for trying to control the situation. That was his job: to control this household, as well as the people who threatened it. And Rufus paid him a lot to do just that. But apparently the younger man needed to draw some boundaries, mostly for his own peace of mind, his sanity.

And, really, couldn't he die in peace, if he wanted to? Wasn't that his right, whether or not he kept Tseng on? The Turk had no business deciding how he took care of himself, or any other part of his private life, outside of the Turk's explicit duties.

And yet Tseng was...

The ex-president eyed the door again. Surely if he locked it, the older man would take the hint, understand that Rufus was in charge, and leave him alone. So why wasn't he locking it?

Probably because, underneath, Rufus knew he was wrong. Tseng would force his way inside. If Tseng didn't do it today, then he'd probably do it the next day. And Rufus didn't want the humiliation of it when it became clear to everyone in the household that Tseng had no intention of listening to his employer.

So, the door remained unlocked.

"I should fire his ass," Rufus whispered, the sound hoarse and grating.

A few minutes later, within fifteen minutes of leaving, Tseng knocked on his door again, and from the harshness, it sounded like a foot kicking the wood. Well, at least Rufus assumed it was Tseng.

Rufus rose to disturbingly wobbly feet and stalked the best he could to the door. When he opened it, the taller man was holding a tray of covered food that smelled, well, delectable, but then Rufus had always hired the best cooks, food one of his secret pleasures. The raven-haired man took a step forward, obviously expecting him to move.

Now was the time to put his foot down. He opened his mouth to, but stopped when dark eyes narrowed.

"Move."

The ex-president's eyes widened, and he almost slammed the door shut. And would have if a foot hadn't wedged against the door.

Again, icily, the man growled, "Move."

There were few times in his life Rufus had blushed. So not ready mentally or physically for this confrontation despite the time he'd had to himself, Rufus did blush now and severely, surely as red as the sun behind him, feeling like it stretched all the way to his fingertips and bare toes.

Foot. Down. Now, you fool.

The standoff lasted another couple of seconds before Tseng strode forward, forcing Rufus to move out of his way. It was either that, or end up with food all over the place and bringing that much more attention to his refusal to eat. And that would only bring more pressure on him from the household.

Over something that's my own decision, damn it!

Tseng put the tray down on the table near the balcony and took a seat on one of the sturdy, plushly cushioned chairs. Expectant eyes stared at his employer.

The blush calming a bit with Rufus' new resentment, the younger man gritted his teeth, slammed the door shut, and stumbled as he stalked to the other chair across from Tseng. By the time he got to it, he was grateful for the seat as dizziness made him dangerously lightheaded. Elbows hitting the top of the table, Rufus pressed at his eyes until he saw spots, which did nothing to still his nausea.

A glass plate was put on the table, and then another directly in front of him. The tray clanked to the side. "I'm told it's your favorite."

Rufus could smell it and knew it was his favorite: pizza with gooey cheese and fresh meats and vegetables over sweetly spiced tomato sauce. As someone who enjoyed flaunting her cooking skills, if the woman was resorting to simple pizza, she was clearly desperate. Despite himself, the blond man couldn't help his smile.

"I take it, it's true."

Blue eyes opened, curved by his smile. "And I thought you Turks knew everything about me, down to my deodorant."

A smile crept onto the other man's face. "It's not in my job description to know your tastes. The rest of you, keeping you safe, is what I'm concerned with."

"Except at this moment."

The man shrugged and settled back into the chair. "I can adjust when needed, and I am trying to keep you safe."

The silent 'from yourself' was there and made Rufus grit his teeth.

The smile dropped away from Rufus' face as he watched his employee... relax? Why...? Why was the man suddenly acting so...

"Tseng," Rufus started but then stalled out over his confusion.

This cold man never let down his guard like this. It was one of the reasons Tseng had become head of the Turks after Veld.

But, then again, maybe this was how Tseng acted off the clock, around his friends.

...But they weren't friends.

What had changed from one day to the next? Him starving himself? It couldn't be that simple. Well, then again, maybe it was. Tseng had clearly stated that he didn't want Rufus to die, and food had an effect on that outcome, at least temporarily. Yeah, okay, the younger man could understand that specific concern, but was there anything else that could be causing Tseng to act like this?

Was it the ex-president's unashamed disregard for modesty? His careless words minutes before? His inadvertent display of vulnerability? His hitching breath when Tseng had touched him?

Unthinkingly, Rufus felt his cheek, remembering that touch all over again and in agonizing detail. Color came back to his cheeks. When he refocused on the man across from him, he realized the Turk hadn't missed a single detail of the last minute and jerked his hand from his face.

"Eat," the Turk said quietly.

Rufus' first reaction was to glare at the man for the blatant command, but for some reason it never reached his face. But nor did he lift the cover off the plate. The Turk sat forward again and lifted his own cover. Yes, it was pizza and it called to Rufus like few things could.

Damn that woman.

Tseng grabbed the fork and knife and started cutting the thick slice apart, piece by piece. Rufus watched every moment of it, lost in the perfect, minimal movements that got the job done with ease. Nonetheless, the melty cheese slithered off the piece the man brought to his lips. Those soft lips opened, as did Rufus' just slightly, anticipating the flavor and texture as if it was going into his own mouth. The raven-haired man chewed slowly, with thought, and Rufus couldn't take his eyes away.

That was, until his stomach growled. He cleared his throat, hoping Tseng hadn't heard, but the room was too quiet otherwise for much hope. Tseng watched him for a moment, but then plucked another piece off of his plate, reached across the table, and offered it to him.

Blond brows instantly raised. No one had fed him since he was quite young. So young he could barely remember it. He hadn't allowed his lovers to do it, no matter how sensual they'd thought it was. Eating... it was just too personal. To let someone else feed him, it simply gave up too much control to another.

Rufus eyed the gooey morsel before he looked back at his employee, uneasy. "I don't need you to feed me."

The arm retreated. "Then eat."

Rufus' elbows on the table already, he easily gripped his hair, eyes closing. What in the world had he done to deserve this kind of... devotion? "Don't I give you enough work to do?"

"I'm off for the night."

So... Tseng was going to spend his time off trying to get him to eat?

Rufus cleared his tight throat and chided with, "This is... ridiculous. You being here isn't necessary for me to eat. You needn't worry about me."

"I disagree."

Rufus put his forearms down on the table so he could glare at the other man. "You disagree?" He huffed dryly. "It isn't your place to agree or disagree. Your job is to follow my orders."

"When I'm working."

The younger man's mouth hung open for a moment before he jerked it shut, teeth making an audible clank. He breathed heavily for a couple of breaths, before he snarled, "Leave me. Now." When the Turk didn't move, he barked, "Now!" while pointing to the door.

For a few pounding heartbeats, the raven-haired man simply stared at him, but then he stood, and Rufus let go of his breath. But then, astonishing Rufus to no end, the other man actually came around to his side of the table and hauled him to his feet and to the bed some distance away.

"Sit down," the Tseng growled with a slight shove.

Rufus did, but only because he knew deep down that this man would never hurt him, at least not intentionally. Well, then again, there had been a time when they'd been at odds, when Rufus had crossed his father and the Turks had used the young man as leverage, but before and after that, this man had shown Rufus nothing but the loyalty guaranteed by a hefty paycheck.

Although, now this man was apparently off the clock.

Tseng grabbed his own plate and a new fork from the tray and headed back over to him. The man couldn't mean to...

"You can't treat me this way!"

"With the way you're acting, I can." He put the plate on the side table. "I'll give you one more chance though. Eat the food."

The shorter man couldn't help asking, "Or?"

"Or you're going to most likely despise my presence in another few seconds."

That didn't really answer his question. And Rufus already despised his presence at that moment. "I'm not eating it!"

"If you think you can fight me in your state, you're sadly mistaken."

The Turk was right. He was weak, physically trembling. His whole body felt wasted and abused. But... He just couldn't eat. Couldn't Tseng understand that?

"Sit back against the pillows," the Turk said sternly, removing his own dress shoes.

Rufus watching the movements with confusion, when he refused to move, to follow the order, Tseng grabbed Rufus behind the shoulders and under the legs. He picked up his employer's considerable weight, even if Rufus had lost a few pounds over the last few days, and heaved him to the middle of the bed against the pillows at the head. Through it, at that point, Rufus did fight. However, after everything, all of the emotional and physical grating, it was a pointless battle.

Immediately after, Tseng straddled his legs. Rufus looked up at the man, wide-eyed, pushing at Tseng's chest. Black hair washed over the man's shoulders, and his back curved to grab the fork while Rufus pushed.

"I'm not eating it!"

"I have all night."

"This-this is ridiculous! You're fucking fired!" Rufus shoved as hard as he could which, embarrassingly, did next to nothing in his current state. "Now get off of me, you bastard!"

"I'll leave, after you eat."

How could the man still be so disgustingly calm when all Rufus felt was outrage at being treated like this?

When the ex-president shoved yet again, harder, or so he hoped, the Turk put the fork back and then grabbed his arms, thrusting them above Rufus' head against the tall bedframe, so that their faces came so close together that Rufus could feel the other man's suddenly heavy breaths. Well, at least this was affecting Tseng a bit too.

Dark eyes stared into his, the older man's breaths only becoming heavier. Tseng's face came disturbingly close, so close that Tseng... Rufus sucked in a breath as Tseng tilted his own head to the side and lightly brushed his lips over Rufus', the men breathing each other's breaths.

The blond man barely heard the weak, desperate sounding, "Please," from Tseng's lips over the pounding in his head.

With that touch and plea, Rufus could no longer deny what caused the tension he felt whenever Tseng was around, refusing to name it for so long for the sake of his sanity. It was desire.

He wanted this man with every greedy part of himself.

In turn, he forced himself to admit why he'd never let a lover close to him: Every person he'd ever been with, when they caressed him, rutted with him, spoke lover's words, he'd always wished they were Tseng. And they never were, never could be.

His mind confused, distraught, wanting, Rufus kissed the mouth against his, drawing out a weak moan from Tseng. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his life. The Turk tentatively kissed him back with small movement of his lips. Even Tseng clearly knew they were crossing a well-maintained line.

Just as the kiss deepened, the older man's tongue caressing Rufus' panting mouth, Tseng suddenly pulled away. Rufus tightened the grip he had on his shirt and tried to pull him back with all of his strength, but it wasn't enough.

Dark eyes searched his for a moment. "You're right. I'm overstepping." Tseng tore away and climbed back off of the bed and his firm hands straightened the suit with nearly violent tugs. A controversy to the motions, the Turk said softly, "I apologize."

What the hell?!

Rufus pulled himself away from the pillows, sitting up in his own. "No! Get back in this bed!"

The cold look he got in return told him there was no way in hell Tseng would ever get into his bed again. "Sir, eat something... Please." The words showed far more of the turmoil eroding on the man than Tseng's face did. And then the Turk put his shoes back on and stalked out of the bedroom, closing the door solidly behind himself.

What the hell just happened?

Utterly overwhelmed and distraught, his hormones dropping off into oblivion, Rufus clawed a hand through slightly sweat-dampened hair and dropped back onto the pillows.

Well, reality just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no point in glaring at the door. Tseng wasn't going to come back just because Rufus tried to burn holes in it with that glare. But that didn't stop Rufus from trying. Well, at least he tried for a few minutes, as his heart, head, and body attempted to settle, as his breaths evened out. As his indifference sprinkled with misery took back over.

In those fleeting moments though, he replayed the last moments in his head: Tseng straddling him, kissing him, and even wanting him.

He did want me. ...Right? Yeah, he did. He did. He...

It had been going so unbelievably right, or, at least, a certain part of him seemed to think it was going down the right path to bliss. And then it had all gone so disturbingly wrong without a breath of warning. Tseng had made a fullout stop and had basically run from him, even when Rufus had ordered him to get back into the bed.

Ordered him? Yes, I ordered him into my bed...

"God, what's wrong with me?" Rufus growled, leaning forward as he crossed his legs again, burying his face in his hands.

Did he always have to act so contrary to how every other normal human being would? Did everything in him have view every interaction he had with others as chance to control and manipulate them? Why did he war with his every breath when he didn't want to?

Well, not anymore, at least. His father was dead. Rufus no longer tried to rule the planet with an iron fist, although he still did attempt to sway things for a mutual benefit. The joys of having gobs of money...

But, back to his own illogical behavior, what was the point of continuing on with so many self-imposed protections, so much anger and vengefulness? Couldn't he let go of the past? Or was it so ingrained that it was simply who he was now? Or perhaps always had been.

And did he really desire death so much?

He gazed at the marks trailing up the skin of an arm in the nearly non-existent light. He traced a finger over it.

That stupid, foolish Turk had touched the markings when Tseng had grabbed him, when Rufus had only been thinking about the man's body against his own. Rufus' fingers trailed where he could still feel the man's forceful grasp. Now, after the fact, the remembrance of touch tensed his body instead. He prayed the doctors were right and that it wasn't contagious.

Teeth gritting, he tried to not think about it anymore. He turned his attention instead to the plate of now cold food, the symbol of what had started all of this. His heart burned just looking at it.

Trembling fingers grabbed the plate, settling it down onto his crossed legs, picked up the fork, and brought a piece to his sputtering mouth. When it touched his lips, he broke down with a sob and dropped the fork. It clattered to the plate, making him jolt.

Why couldn't anyone understand that he wanted punishment? That he deserved pain?

He wanted and deserved death for everything wrong he'd done in his life, mostly on purpose.

Instead of eating, he put the plate to the side of the bed, curled up on his side, and let the sobs fill the room until an exhausted sleep claimed him.

The next morning, he awoke to distant chatter. Well, it'd seemed distant until he opened his eyes and realized people were standing right next to his bed. One of the doctors he recognized, Ms. Reed. The other person was his personal housekeeper.

The blond man tried to make out their words, but they sounded like blurbs of nothing. He bent his arm, trying to bring it to his face to rub the drowsiness out of it, but stilled it when a shot of pain hit him. He looked down at it and realized he had an IV going into it. How could he have slept through getting an IV in? He must have been passed out completely. He brought his other hand to his face and rubbed it harshly to get the grogginess out of his head. It didn't help much, if at all.

At Rufus' motion, the doctor turned her head and then crouched down to his level. "You're dehydrated, Mr. Shinra. We're taking care of that." She smiled. "It's a good thing you don't drink alcohol or you'd be worse off. I want you to stay in bed today. And eat something. I've been told you haven't been eating. You need to keep your strength up to fight this..." The woman cleared her throat. "And about that..."

Blue eyes opened to eye her and her sudden apprehension. Whatever it was, he had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like it.

The doctor turned her head to the other people in the room. "If you could leave us, please."

Within a few moments, the other two walked out the door and closed it softly behind themselves. Then her full attention turned back onto Rufus.

"As you know, people are blaming mako for the illness. But we've run some tests on it. It's definitely not mako poisoning. And it's not a virus or bacteria." She pressed her lips together and looked to his hand. "It's, well, it's not anything we've ever seen before.

"But, as you know, this epidemic started after that meteor. And... one of our lab assistants had a hunch. We compared it to biological samples that were recovered from Shin-Ra Headquarters." She looked him fully in the eye, her own disbelief shining brightly. "It's Sephiroth. His cells. But they've somehow mutated into something that can infect a human host."

"You're saying Sephiroth's cells are in me?" Rufus huffed and looked to the ceiling. "That's just fucking brilliant. This is a punishment, isn't it?"

This was his punishment for what he'd done. Even for what he'd attempted to do. For what generations of his family had done.

I deserve this. I deserve all of it. Can't Tseng understand that?

"Sir, it's not a punishment. There are many others who are showing signs of it, children, elders. You know it's not just you."

The blond man pressed his lips together, his stomach turning over, considering everything and every consequence it brought with it. He suddenly had the strong impulse to rip his own arm off. Instead he merely clenched its fist. "Don't share this with anyone. If anything, it'll cause a panic and people will die. It's better the public doesn't know the truth until a cure can be found. If it ever can be found."

He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yes, sir." She stood back up and rested a hand on his arm. "Rest. And don't wait too long to go to the bathroom, if you need to. It'll probably hit you fast as your body tries to flush out toxins. I'm leaving another saline bag with Rose. Let it empty and try to eat something, broth preferably, in the meantime. I know it won't feel good to eat, but you'll feel better afterwards. Honestly, Mr. Shinra, you're doing this to yourself. Your body is strong, even though it has been fighting this for a while. Your illness is still only at the beginning stages, unlike other people."

When he didn't answer, merely closed his eyes, she gave his arm a squeeze and then picked up her things and walked to the door.

Rufus spent the day in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom, still refusing food. He really didn't want to leave the softness of it even for that. The idea of Sephiroth inside of him, being an unwilling carrier to whatever devious purpose those cells had, it made him physically ill. On top of everything else, the knowledge simply drained too much out of him to bother getting up to face the world. And it wasn't like the world needed him anymore anyway, if it ever had.

Tseng crossed his mind over and over again until his face became almost a constant hum in his mind. Would the man ever want to touch him again, if he knew what was inside of him? Well, would he ever touch him again either way, outside of his duties which rarely involved physical contact?

The young man couldn't get the memory of soft lips out of his mind. He'd had no idea the Turk could be so soft, so willing and unwilling at the same time.

Yes, Tseng had wanted him. Rufus couldn't doubt that, not when a large and growing part of him only wanted to encourage the man on. And at a time when, ironically, Rufus could no longer have him, adding significant pain to the punishment he deserved.

Whether or not Tseng wanted him, Rufus wasn't going to let Tseng touch ever again. It was a barrier that needed to be there to keep Tseng safe. That was the least Rufus could do after so many years of devoted service. Besides, Rufus was disgusted with what was inside of him, enough for both himself and for the Turk.

The next morning, having had no visitors except for the doctor and Rose, Rufus was no more determined to get out of bed. But he did anyway. He couldn't stand the stale stink of himself anymore. He made his way to the bathroom with uneven footsteps, glad when he finally reached the doorframe so he could grab it to catch his breath.

God, he really needed to eat something or he was going to fall on his face. How many days had it been now since he'd more or less stopped eating? Five? Six? He wasn't even sure.

Carefully, supporting his way with trembling limbs, he made it into the shower and finally stripped off the clothes he'd been wearing for the last two days, tossing them outside. Then he turned on just the hot water, jerking to the side when only cold still came out. Quickly, it heated, and he turn the cold a bit as well, until the water just bordered on too hot. The heat felt wonderful to his chilled skin, even if a bit overwhelming.

His face buried itself in the steady stream so that he couldn't breathe. He took a few gulps of sickly hot water before he lowered his head and let it flood down his back. Looking down at his nakedness, he could already see signs of his lack of food. He'd always had little fat to him. Now his body was clearly eating muscle to stay alive. The sight disturbed him to no end, but he also wondered what it'd look like even thinner.

The man had practically drowned himself before he backed up and rubbed at his eyes. He turned around to get the hair out of his face, but as he did, he realized someone was at the bathroom doorway. The figure couldn't be seen clearly though the textured and frosted glass keeping the water in. But he knew who it was by the height, suit and hair.

And, yes, the man had seen him in this state before as well. About the only state the Turk hadn't caught in him was when he was finding his way into a temporary lover.

"What is it," Rufus' throat cracked out, much to his dismay. He realized he hadn't talked since the morning before.

Tseng remained silent, a statue in the fogginess of the bathroom. The stare made Rufus harden in ways he was vaguely surprised his body still wanted to bother with. The joys of being twenty-six.

He rested his back against the delicately tiled wall, stiffening at the coldness there, but not letting himself draw away. He needed the support.

"What, Tseng? Do you want to join me?" he purred out, half serious. But the older man wouldn't dare. Surely he wouldn't.

The raven-haired man continued to merely stand there as water pummeled the harness at the former president's groin. Rufus grabbed the length, trying to save it from the assault. It felt too overpowering, overwhelming his senses. His hand felt little better, as he pulled it up.

Holding himself while this man watched, it was a, well, interesting experience, especially when he only wanted it to be Tseng's hand on him and not his own too familiar one.

Could the Turk see what he was holding? Surely the glass only hinted at it. As the other man watched, he took a tentative stroke and closed his eyes as the sensation brought both pleasure and nausea. It was a confusing mix, but his body was naturally primed for such attention, so he stroked again and moaned lightly deep in his throat. Could the man hear that over the water? Maybe.

Then he saw it: The fuzzy display of the other man's arm moving, his pale hand over the front of the black suit. Rufus latched onto the sight and let it drive his hand over and over again, pulling out quickening breaths, picking up his dizziness. The taller man's hand didn't seem to be moving, merely grasping, but Rufus didn't let that detour him. It took a minute before his sack tightened completely, but he brought himself to an orgasm that hurt as much as it brought him pleasure, calling out weakly, sounds which nonetheless managed to echoed in the bathroom.

Well, that had been a mistake. Almost immediately afterwards, his body deathly exhausted, Rufus slid his back down the tiles until his backside hit the floor. He sat there, his legs sprawled out, not caring what Tseng thought of him. He was too drained to care. His head was fucking killing him. He had to battle to retain consciousness.

Not knowing how long he sat there, soon though, the water was turned off and a towel and strong hands wrapped around him, pulling him up to his feet. He looked up at his employee, finally feeling tinges of embarrassment with the apprehension in those beautiful dark eyes. He didn't want to see Tseng's emotions though, so he closed his eyes again and let the other man towel him off, completely forgetting his determination to not let Tseng touch him again. He barely felt near caresses.

Then, surprising him somewhere in his out-of-it mind, hands covered his cheeks and Tseng's forehead met his. He felt the barest touch of his nose against his own. His breaths felt heavy against his face.

"Rufus..."

Was the man finally giving up on him? Realizing that this was a lost cause? If so, it was about damn time.


	4. Chapter 4

Tucked under thick blankets, naked, Rufus watched the man sitting in the chair a short distance away through half-lidded eyes. He'd been dozing off and on, and now the sun was beginning to set again. Maybe Tseng had been dozing too, his head tilted back against the top of the chair, exposing the long column of his neck.

Minutes later though, the Turk lifted his head and looked at him. Not wanting to be obvious by closing his eyes, the younger man didn't bother stopping his stare.

This man... Was not doing his job.

Of course... Rufus was his job.

And the interlude in the bathroom had change everything between them in a matter of minutes.

A huff of air passed the blond man's lips. Tseng sat forward, watching him far too carefully, then stood, walked to the table, picked up a bowl, and brought it to the bed, putting it on the end table. The mattress sank down a bit at his weight.

Not this again...

Any protest didn't make it to his mouth though. He was so tired of fighting this man, fighting everything. He groaned when Tseng made him sit up, fluffing up the pillows, and the urged him back. The man picked the bowl of broth back up and looked to him. Rufus could see the question in his face: 'So how are we going to do this? The civilized way or childish way?'

"Tseng, you're not my nursemaid," he muttered, "Really, you aren't."

"No, but he quit the second day, so I'm substituting until we can find someone else who can put up with you."

Despite himself, Rufus huffed a laugh, looking down at his flexing arm tarnished with the markings.

Tseng didn't seem quite as amused. He put the bowl back on the table and walked to the door, saying, "I'll be right back."

The former president stared after him, wondering what he was doing, but he was only gone a couple of minutes. When Tseng came back, he put a straw in the bowl, picked it back up, and held it close to Rufus' face, murmuring, "We'll compromise. The broth is cold anyway. Just don't drink it too fast."

Bone broth had never been his thing, but after watching Tseng's wary, urging stare for a few seconds, he leaned forward and put his lips to the straw and drew some of the liquid into his mouth. Cold bone broth was considerably worse. He cringed but managed to swallow the mouthful before he pulled away. At the swallow, Tseng exhaled a breath he'd obviously been holding in.

Yeah, you got me to eat something. Happy? Now go away and leave me to wallow in my misery and shame.

But Tseng stayed by his side, watching him carefully, while Rufus let his stomach unknot, watching his own chest breathe. The straw was put near his face again. The younger man preemptively cringed.

"I don't want it."

"I honestly don't care what you want at this point because your decision making skills have gone down the drain in the last few days. When you become rational again, I'll listen to you."

Rufus glared at the other man. "You're not exactly being the most rational person yourself, if we're being honest here."

The Turk stared at him before bringing the bowl back down to his own lap. "No, I haven't been. And I apologized for that."

"And what about in the bathroom just a few hours ago when you couldn't keep your eyes off of me? You didn't even announce your presence. I didn't hear any apology for that." Dark eyes met light ones in a stare that made the younger man's groin boil. Rufus licked his lips, and then couldn't help whispering, "Why... Why didn't you ever..."

Why didn't you ever tell me you want me?

He couldn't make the words come out. They offered up too much vulnerability and need to be said out loud. But neither could he break the stare. He wanted to know the answer, even if he couldn't ask the question.

But maybe Tseng hadn't wanted him before this week. Maybe this was just a response to Rufus' refusal to help keep himself alive. Trauma could create feelings of longing in people who otherwise would never have looked at each other twice, a life-saving response to a bad situation. He couldn't think of any other time in their history where Tseng had looked at him this way. The recognition of the probable truth deadened his heart.

"Why didn't I ever... what?"

Rufus blew out a heavy breath and searched the dim landscape exposed by the open balcony. He had to repeatedly blink his eyes to get them to focus properly on it. "Never mind..."

When he refused to say more, Tseng lifted the bowl and straw to his lips again. "Why didn't I, what? Watch you before now? Touch you? Kiss you?"

Blue eyes closed as a wave of heat went through him, making him dizzy. Did the Turk really expect him to be able to eat after those kinds of questions?

"If you drink more, I'll tell you why."

Rufus re-fixed his gaze on the raven-haired man's face. In the impending darkness, he could hardly pick out individual features anymore. But Tseng's pale skin contrasted sharply with his dark eyes and hair, making the man look like some kind of apparition. A rather beautiful one at that.

Knowing the other man watched every bit of movement, Rufus leaned forward slightly and took a couple more mouthfuls, swallowing them. It felt like poison dripping down into his belly.

The ex-Turk then said softly, "I did none of those things because I work for you. As I said, I crossed the line two days ago. And I did again today. I apologize. Again."

Rufus could see the shame in the other man's face with the way his jaw tightened and his gaze went to the floor. But the words were also the most obvious answer in the world. Of course the older man hadn't done any of those things before because he worked for him. Tseng knew what Rufus did to people who crossed the line.

It definitely wasn't the answer Rufus had swallowed two gulps of that crap for.

Blond brows furrowing, Rufus growled out, "Do better than that. You haven't given me one bit of new information."

Tseng searched his face then, his apprehension so obvious in the darkness that Rufus almost wanted to have mercy on him. But the blond man said nothing, still hoping the Turk would answer more fully. He couldn't actually force answers out of him, after all. Hoping was the only way.

Finally, Tseng said, "I would never cross that line without good reason."

Rufus hacked a laugh over the absurd statement. "You call this, me dying, a good reason to climb on top of me and have your way with me?"

The Turk stiffened as his grip tightened on the bowl. "I wasn't going to rape you."

"Maybe not sexually."

The Turk's stare was grating, but Rufus refused to back down. The ex-president wanted this man to react, to get out from behind the masks he'd obviously built up over the years. He was positive now that there was so much more to Tseng than he presented to him, his employer. And now, after the last few days, he suddenly wanted to know what those things were.

"I... Rufus, I..."

"Yes?"

Tseng huffed and looked away from him. That was about the closest thing to a laugh Rufus had ever gotten out of this man. "It's not my place."

It was Rufus' turn to huff. "All you've been doing these last three days is insulting me, pressuring me, making me uncomfortable and ashamed. I think you've stepped well out of your place."

"That wasn't my intent."

"Then what was your intent?"

"I've already told you my intent," the Turk blurted out, clearly getting enraged, finally put the bowl back on the table. "It's my job to make sure you live."

"And you do that by kissing me?"

Brown-black eyes met his before the gaze moved slowly down Rufus' naked body, to the sheets at his hips. The eyes closed.

Rufus couldn't stand it anymore. He was just too damn tired to take this conversation at the pace Tseng obviously needed to go, which meant taking forever. He'd been trying to egg the man on, but clearly it wasn't working.

So he decided to help the man a bit with, "Just tell me you want me."

The renewed, intense stare brought new color to the younger man's cheeks.

Despite the sudden stare down, refusing to shift his eyes, Rufus continued with, "I won't drink another drop until you tell me one way or the other."

Tseng slowly smiled, making the blond man's heart thud. "You're going to coerce me into answering?"

"If that's what it takes, yes."

The taller man frowned at him thoughtfully, again looking him over. Rufus was glad his sheets were thick. "Do you truly want to know?" Well, yes, he wanted to know or he wouldn't have asked. "...Why?"

Rufus pressed his lips together, trying to hold onto his self-control. When he felt he could control his voice properly, he said, "Because before this week, you've shown absolutely no interest me. And I realize that, maybe, that is because of my dire need for space and obedience. And you probably like your job. But I still want to know about before this week."

Tseng had gone completely still, barely even breathing, and then he said again with obvious caution, "Why?"

Good God, is he just going to keep turning these questions back on me?

Rufus gritted his teeth, annoyed, infuriated, but then again... Well, he really couldn't except this man to spill his guts without spilling some of his own. So, he answered the Turk's question with, "Because I've wanted you before this week."

I've wanted you even when I was with someone else. Even when you barely gave me the time of day. Because you were so strong, so assured, so filled with purpose and commitment. You were who I wanted to be with me, to be at my side, to be against me. And... you were also what I wanted to be, while I forced myself to be something else.

His mouth certainly didn't say that much. His eyes probably didn't say that much either. But his mind and heart did at least.

Suddenly Tseng was leaning forward, drawing ever closer, and as much as Rufus welcomed the advance, he still hadn't gotten an answer to his question and had a feeling the man was avoiding it. He put his hand at the man's chest, stopping him.

"Answer my question."

Tseng stopped, propping himself on an arm on the other side of Rufus' body, more or less caging him, making the younger man's breaths tremble and his body ache, which did nothing for his current state.

Really, Rufus needed to eat some more and sleep more. But he didn't want to do that before Tseng answered him. So he took the pain as it came and forced himself to concentrate.

The man's other hand gripped at Rufus' hand at his chest and then drew it to his lips, brushing their softness over fingers that wouldn't stop trembling. Finally, Tseng met his blue eyes and whispered, "I've wanted you for a long, long time."

Rufus was sure he was going to die at that moment. Surely that would have been the sensible thing to do.

Instead, tears fell down his cheeks. He didn't really know why he was crying. Perhaps it was just a release from so much built up tension over the day, months, years. Years and years and years of tension and more tension that he could do nothing about. Tension not only about Tseng, but about his father, his mother, a world he'd done his best to make hate as he hated. And now...

Rufus choked out a sob, and Tseng was instantly grabbing his cheeks again, rubbing at the wetness there, hushing him. And then the Turk was kissing him, so softly, but Rufus couldn't stop crying. The shorter man wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly, burying his face in his neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Rufus didn't really know who he was saying the words to, but Tseng merely caressed his unclothed back, his neck, his hair, whispering words to him he couldn't understand in between kisses to his shoulder.

God, he'd never felt so cradled. So loved, if that was what this was.

Eventually, Rufus quieted, exhausted, his mind blanking as to why he was even crying. Then again, he remembered, there really hadn't been a reason. He'd just been crying at everything.

Tseng urged him back, all the way back until he was resting against the pillows again, looking at him with dire concern. "Try to eat some more and then sleep."

The bowl was brought near, and Rufus grabbed the straw, took a few more gulps that did nothing to settle his stomach and then laid his head back, looking to the ceiling, fighting off nausea. When Tseng put the bowl back and moved to stand, Rufus caught his wrist.

"Don't go. Stay with me."

There was only a moment's pause before Tseng nodded in the dark room. "I will."

When the man still made to move away, Rufus added, "I mean, in my bed."

The pause was much longer this time and Rufus was sure of rejection as time ticked by. But then Rufus felt the motion of Tseng removing his shoes. He scooted over and down, trying to not knock his own body around too much while doing it. Tseng laid down over the covers.

"Under?"

"How would that help you sleep? Besides..."

"Besides what?"

Tseng huffed, but heat was again in his eyes as he took in Rufus' body. "You're quite naked."

Rufus pressed his lips together, trying not to grind his hips at a sudden resilient, creeping hardness, instead laying his head on the pillow. "I'd like you under."

Tseng stared some more at whatever he could see in the darkness of the night. "It's... safer if I stay on top."

"But I like to be on top," Rufus sighed out, feeling sleep come up on him like a tidal wave now that he was laying down.

The Turk shifted onto his side and ran the backs of his fingers over Rufus' cheek. "Just sleep."

Within a minute, staring into dark eyes under heavy lids, he was.


	5. Chapter 5

The room reddened from the morning sun just peaking up over the horizon and stirred the man awake. Rufus laid stretched out on his stomach how he usually did in the morning, but as he blinked open his eyes, he realized something wasn't right. Rather, something... Someone was missing from his bed.

Rufus pushed himself up on his elbows with a suddenness that had his head swimming, but he still nonetheless did his best to search for the Turk who was supposed to be in his bed. His room was empty. The bathroom was empty with the light turned off. He was alone.

Blinking, Rufus tried to figure out if he'd gone crazy from one day to the next, if perhaps Sephiroth's cells invading his body had made him see things, glorious things that should haven't been possible.

Tseng in his bed? Why would Tseng ever willingly lie with him in his bed?

His mind scoured everything he could remember about the moments before he'd gone to sleep.

He'd cried. Like a fucking blubbering baby. God, he didn't want to remember that.

And, well, he'd also been kissed so softly it bordered on painful.

Rufus rolled onto his back and touched his lips, trying to find some evidence of Tseng on his mouth. But, of course, hours after the fact, there'd have been no evidence there whether or not it'd happened. Had he imagined Tseng holding him, kissing him? If he had, then hopefully he'd imagined the crying as well.

Wait. The soup. Tseng had been feeding him soup.

Rufus lifted his head again and looked to the side table. And there is was: A bowl with a straw hanging over the edge. Tseng had said it'd been a compromise, presumably between forcibly spoon-feeding him and letting him have some dignity. Although where could there possibly be any dignity in getting force-fed at twenty-seven years old?

And for that matter, where was the dignity in an employee professing to his employer that he'd wanted him for a long, long time? Rufus' groin had no choice but to heat at the thought and the confession he'd coerced out of Tseng.

Blue eyes searched the room again, almost frantic in his upheaval of emotions, but, as before, the room was barren of all life except for this pounding heartbeat and his heavy breaths.

So alone, for the first time in a week, he wanted to leave his room and with a desperation that sent his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. When he stood up on wobbly legs much too quickly, dizziness again overtook him and he was forced to sit back down or fall on his face. What a time to regret everything he'd willingly done to himself in the past week.

"Rose!" the former president blurted out into the empty room. "ROSE!"

The door burst open and the housekeep came rushing in, reaching out to turn on a switch she knew the location of. Rufus cringed his eyes shut at the sudden light that was much brighter than the barely risen sun. Someone followed behind her slippered feet with heavy footsteps.

After a moment, when his eyes adjusted, Rufus glared at the stranger, but ignored him otherwise for the moment in favor of growling, "Get Tseng in here right now."

The two people had stopped a few feet from the bed before Rose said, "I'm sorry, sir, he's not here today. He's on an assignment on the other side of Edge. He most likely won't be back until tonight, maybe tomorrow."

Rufus hoped his shock didn't show on his face. If it did, he hoped it looked like sincere hostility instead. "He left?"

"Yes, sir. But last night, after you were asleep, he made some calls and found a nurse who was more than happy to come this morning." She lightly touched the arm attached to a man that was looking at Rufus like he had every intention of coming right over to former president to give him a complete and thorough physical right at that moment. And that wouldn't have been difficult since Rufus was still quite naked, not to mention too weak to fight.

The blond man grabbed an edge of the comforter and jerked it over his lap. "I've said quite clearly that I do not need a nurse, or caregiver, or anything similar, which would be a waste of my money. Now get Tseng in here. Now!" When the woman merely stood there, her jaw working up and down, Rufus instead ordered, "Forget it! Just get me my fucking phone!" He jerked a trembling hand up to point. "It's over there charging on the table."

Rose rushed her slender frame over to it, unplugged it, and brought it to her employer. The moment he had it, he opened it and speed-dialed Tseng's number. After a couple of rings, the thing went straight to voicemail. He tried again. This time, it just went straight to voicemail.

Rufus slammed the phone on the side table next to the dresser, blurting out, "That fucking bastard." Then he realized the two people were still in his room. "Nurse whatever-your-name-is, you're fired. Get out of my house." When the man gawked at him, Rufus turned his murderous glare onto Rose. "Get him out of here now. Pay him whatever he wants, but get him out of my house, Rose."

When the woman finally obediently rushed the nurse towards the door, Rufus raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't remember a single moment in time in his whole life he'd ever been so pissed off.

Tseng had not only left his bed, but found a replacement all in the same night?! A short, humorless laugh burst out of him at the idea.

He tried to stand again, more than ready to track down Tseng himself if he had to. He wasn't about to let Tseng think he could have his way in this matter. But when he tried to stand, again, dizziness took hold. He collapsed back onto his backside, a sob bursting out of him.

"ROSE!"

He heard her running footsteps coming down the hallway seconds later.

When she reached the doorway, she panted out, "Yes, sir?"

"Get me some food." When she didn't move the moment he finished the words, he added, "Like right now, damn it!"

The look of surprise on her face succumbed to a slight smile before she took off back the way she'd come. Rufus continued to glare at the open doorway.

Did the woman have to look so damned pleased about it?!

The blonde man gritted his teeth and tried to not think about the whole household celebrating downstairs while he was upstairs suffering utter humiliation. He tried to not think about Tseng finally getting his way.

Yes, he'd eat. He'd eat just so he could beat the shit out of Tseng, at least verbally, if not physically, before he died from this parasitic disease that Sephiroth had apparently cursed him with.

Around twenty minutes later, he had a steaming breakfast that still mostly consisted of soup, but also had a couple chucks of thick warm bread and some freshly sliced peaches in a bowl on the tray. He glared at Rose until she left the room and then clutched the throw on his bed around himself and made his way to the table with careful footsteps.

Slowly, but surely, he forced down the broth, a piece of bread, and most of the fruit before he felt too full to continue, his stomach probably only a portion of the size it'd been a week before.

Then he sat back in the chair, closed his eyes, and let the morning sun attempt to warm his chilled flesh. The soup helped a bit with that too.

Another twenty minutes later, while he still felt weak, his blood sugar rising, he wasn't borderline unconscious anymore. He made his way back to the bed, collapsed chest down on it, telling himself he'd only close his eyes for a minute before he got dressed, and then managed to fall right back asleep.

It wasn't until the day had warmed considerably and the sun was somewhere overhead that he woke up again. Rufus growled at the effort it took to get back into a seated position, but he still had to admit he felt better at that moment than he had in days. A few minutes later, he made his way back over to the table, finished up the bread and fruit, and then made his way to the dresser.

He picked out a pair of briefs, pants, and a shirt alone, abandoning any idea of trying to get a full ensemble onto his trembling body. Then, combing his hands through his hair, he made his way to the doorway, down the hallways, and down the stairs, carefully hanging onto the railing.

Rose came rushing around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sir?"

"Get Richard. I'm going out."

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment but then nodded, turned around, and hurried to the far end of the house. Rufus made his way to the front door, opened the locks, opened the door itself, and then leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch his breath and steady his swimming head.

It wasn't until quiet footsteps were on him that he saw Rose handing him a bottle of water with a small smile. "Sir, do take care of yourself."

Rufus stared at her a moment and then looked at the offering before he managed a small smile himself. "Thank you, Rose."

Her smile grew. She nodded and walked back the way she'd come.

When he heard the car come around, Rufus pushed himself away from the doorframe, walked with as much dignity as he could muster, and slipped into the car door his chauffeur had opened for him. He cracked open the bottle of water and took a sip before his driver was seated. "Take me to Tseng."

Richard nodded. "Yes, sir."


	6. Chapter 6

That noon was like any other for the past few weeks to the residents of Edge. Men, women, and children alike contributed something to crafting structures made from re-straightened metal and salvaged wood, whether that was by gripping a hammer or by holding a spatula. Rufus found himself watching those people as the car sped by block after block of pieced together buildings.

How could they not seem to realize how utterly different this day was? That this part of the universe had taken a tailspin into insanity? That he, a man who was supposed to be dead, was chasing after the man who'd saved him. The ex-president was chasing his employee because...

Because of a kiss. Of a declaration of longstanding desire. Of so many touches that still burned Rufus' skin.

By the time they reached the other side of Edge, much of the anger had left him, partially because his body begged to go back to sleep. The other part, well, he didn't want to admit to, but he couldn't deny it, at least to himself.

He was scared. It wasn't an emotion he felt often. Okay, he hardly ever felt it, despite everything. Perhaps because of everything. But now... Now his body practically shook with it, and he wanted to order Richard to turn the car back around far more than he wanted to crucify Tseng for abandoning his bed when the Turk said he'd stay.

He didn't know if he could take Tseng turning away from him again. At least not on that day when Rufus was so weak in body and mind.

A moment after accepting that reality, his mouth opening to say the words that would help save his already wrecked mind, his driver stopped next to a building. Rufus looked out the tinted window and recognized it. It was the temporary WRO headquarters, with the newer facility being barely built through a generous anonymous donation his pocketbook still felt.

His chauffeur climbed out of the long car that still wasn't quite a limousine and walked around with a well-practiced grace to Rufus' door, opening it with a bowed head while letting in wind that carried the smell of burnt oil, fire, and stale bodies, bringing Rufus to crinkle his face in nauseous revulsion.

The few moments Rufus continued to remained glued to the seat, unwilling to move now for at least three reasons, had Richard looking at him. "Sir?"

Rufus swallowed the fear, nausea, and exhaustion that trembled his body and climbed out of the car with far less grace than his employee. He struggled to control his breathing, his words, as he offered the man a slight smirk and a, "Wait here. I'll only be a short while."

"Yes, sir," Richard said with a nod.

Rufus walked to the large doorway and, behind him, heard the car door close and his chauffeur walk back around the car with his hard-soled shoes. He had to fight the urge with everything in him to not turn around and get right back into that car and demand a quick, retreating passage to the safety of home to people who mostly listened to him. But his feet continued moving forward, well-trained in doing what Rufus knew he had to do.

The guard at the door watched him approach with raised brows. Everyone here knew of Rufus' presumed death. Few knew with their own eyes that that story was false for the most part. This guard was apparently one of the many. When they were close enough for a comfortable conversation, Rufus frowned at the much taller man which managed to burst the soldier into action.

The guard rushed forward to the door and opened it for the former president with a short, forced, "Sir."

Rufus ignored the guard after that, stalking into the building with as much strength as he could muster, ignoring the stunning wooden chairs against the far wall that called to him with a siren's song. He strode right up to the desk that held more than a couple of dents. When the woman behind it looked up at him from her paperwork, her eyes widened and she instantly jolted to her feet and blurted out, "Mr. Shinra, can I help you, sir?"

"Get me Tseng." His voice left no room for conversation over the matter, and he couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself.

"Yes, sir," she said with a relieved nod as the tension left her body, probably glad it was something she could accomplish on her own. Or, at least she probably presumed she could, not knowing what had happened last night in Rufus' bed and the resulting reason for Rufus standing in front of her desk.

Ignoring her further as she picked up the phone and started blabbering on it, Rufus looked around the room again, not really seeing it, his mind dwelling on who would be coming out of some hole at any moment if Tseng had any self-preservation in him. At this point, with a hefty amount of adrenaline kicking in, Rufus was raring to go again. He knew he had to be since his newfound strength surely wasn't going to last long.

The clinking of dress shoes on the hard floor drew Rufus' attention to an open doorway. A moment later, there was the ex-president's every source of misery, shame, loathing, and desire, for the most part, anyway.

Tseng stared at Rufus as Rufus stared back. The younger man only let it last for a few moments before he stalked up to his employee, so ready to do... something. But as Tseng stared down at him as only Tseng could with no trace of fear in his eyes, Rufus found his face crinkling up again, but this time fighting tears.

Where the hell had all these tears come from? He hadn't cried so much since his mother's death. In fact, in all the years after, his eyes hadn't moistened once. Now... Now he couldn't seem to stop the water no matter how much he tried.

Instead of saying all of the smart, asshole things he'd been planning on saying since he'd woken up, his found himself whispering instead, voice quavering in a way he couldn't stop, "You said you'd stay with me."

Tseng stood stiffly, his face betraying nothing, and Rufus hated himself for his own bared weakness and he had to question everything he remembered from the night before. Had he fantasized it all in some hormonal wet dream? Had he gone insane from a lack of food and guilt over everything he'd done to the world? Either one seemed to be a good possibility.

Almost as quietly, Tseng said, "Return home, Sir. You're not well."

Yeah, he was sure he looked like shit. Pale, damp with sweat, unwashed, underfed, diseased with Sephiroth cells that blackened his skin. He didn't want to look at himself either. Of course, Tseng hadn't turned away yet, staring down at him with a coldness that snuffed the supposed smiles and kisses from the night before. Then again, what would Tseng dare to do out in public? Shove him to the car like Rufus was a disobedient child? The Turk obviously dared to do such things in Rufus' home, but here, in the presence of strangers, Tseng was apparently merely going to will Rufus home with his icy, unbreakable demeanor.

As Rufus stared back, feeling up to the challenge, proving how childish he truly was, Rufus lifted a hand and feathered just the tips of his fingers along Tseng's tight jaw. The other man didn't move. Tseng didn't even breathe as Rufus' own breath's quickened. The whole room, the world seemed to go quiet with that touch.

Then, just when the fingers ghosted over Tseng's hard, tense lips that Rufus was sure he knew could be so soft, the Turk sucked in a breath, his eyes closing, his hand grabbing Rufus' in a grip that bordered on painful, yanking it down to their sides.

"Rufus..."

Rufus. Hearing his own name from Tseng's lips... Suddenly he didn't feel so crazy. Suddenly he was sure all of it had happened. Suddenly he was sure Tseng wanted him.

Rufus licked his dry lips. "Please, Tseng. Please come home with me."

He'd never been one to beg. He'd never had to. He'd always been given what he wanted. Well, except when his mother had died and left him alone in the world that hated him because he was a Shinra, never mind what he would come to do to the world.

But he suddenly realized that he wasn't beyond begging. That Tseng was worth the humiliation of it. That he'd go to any length to make Tseng his.

Then again, maybe he was crazy.

And what did it matter? He was dead anyway, right? More than once, in fact. Why not fight for what he truly wanted, what he'd wanted for years, whether he'd admitted that fact to himself in that time or not? Crazier things had happened to him, admittedly not by much but crazy enough.

Tseng opened his softened eyes and studied Rufus, searching. His free hand came up much the way Rufus' had, drifting over the skin of Rufus' bare neck, sending a shiver through the younger man's body. Soon enough, that hand gripped the back of Rufus' neck, restricting his movement, unless, of course, Rufus wanted to move forward.

"You truly are the most stubborn, spoiled, selfish man I have ever met. Even now, after everything, you think you can..."

Normally such words would have brought out instant revolt and the need for absolute obedience from his subordinate. Instead, his heart thudding, bringing dizziness to swim his head, the ex-president closed his eyes. "Can what?"

Huffing, Tseng's forehead suddenly met with Rufus'. Blue eyes flashed open and saw that Tseng had his eyes closed. The sight of it, the trustfulness, Tseng's possessive grip, their closeness, it all melted Rufus until he was sure he was just a pile of hormones. In the lobby of the WRO building.

When Tseng didn't say any more, Rufus once again closed his eyes and pleaded quietly, "Come home with me."

Rufus could hear the smile in the, "As if I could say no to you."

It was Rufus' turn to huff. "That's all you've been saying these past few days."

"Yes... But underneath it, ever since... I've always said yes."

Rufus frowned, looking at the other man the best he could with their closeness. "Ever since what?"

Tseng pulled his head away, smiling down at the younger man with eyes that spoke of the purest affection. All for him. "Ever since I fell in love with a brat who will always be so far out of my league."

Not giving Rufus a chance to reply, the Turk claimed his mouth, kissing him with a passion a few people had tried to offer Rufus before, passion he'd never accepted before that moment. Rufus kissed back, not caring who saw, in fact, wanting everyone to see that he was finally getting what he'd truly wanted for far too long.

...Never mind that he would soon be dead.

* * *

The rest of the story, people know. Thank you for reading!


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